


The Baths

by thegirlnamedcove



Series: Kinktober 2017 by Cove [3]
Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Bath Houses, Bath Sex, Casual Sex, Cunnilingus, F/F, Face-Sitting, Femslash, Fluff and Smut, Kinktober, Kinktober 2017, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 09:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12339891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlnamedcove/pseuds/thegirlnamedcove
Summary: The road was cast in shades of blue gray as she travelled, lightening evermore each minute but never quite breaking into daylight. She was restless where she sat, and the horse picked up on that energy, constantly shifting away from the road, slowing, speeding up. It couldn’t read her or her signals, and the way her heart was racing she couldn’t make them any clearer. She was going to find a woman. And maybe, if she could pull herself together into something impressive and worthy she could make that woman her wife in time.





	The Baths

Diana was nineteen when she first met Parthenie.

It was strange, in many ways, to be a child on an island of people without childhoods. They could know, in a detached sort of way, that her hormones would rise in adolescence, that her menses would come. They could educate her on the workings of her body. But they could not ever relate to the experience of it, to feeling totally out of control of her own reactions and emotions. There was no one as inexperienced as her. There was no one to whom womanhood was new.

And even now, after she’d left most trappings of youth behind, most still saw her as an unstable child.

All around her, it seemed, were wives. People committed to spending their eternities together, wound up in one another, and she wanted that deep in her chest. Wanted it so badly it kept her from sleeping sometimes. But when every woman was her auntie, when everyone around her had seen her too young to even feed herself, what could she do? Who could she approach and be taken seriously?

Just like that, one night, she had the answer.

She woke before the sun the next day and packed a bag and mounted a horse for the other side of the island.

Themyscera, roughly speaking, was broken up into segments. Like a conch shell, the center of the spiral held the most vital functions of government, and then it moved outward to battle arenas, then to the crafters, then to the gardens. The palace where she lived with her mother was near the opening of the conch shell, a cliff side that afforded astonishing views of the deep and everlasting ocean, and it was here she had come of age. But there was another side, full of vineyards and free roaming cows, and thousands of Amazons living there whom she had never had the chance to even see, let alone meet.

The road was cast in shades of blue gray as she travelled, lightening evermore each minute but never quite breaking into daylight. She was restless where she sat, and the horse picked up on that energy, constantly shifting away from the road, slowing, speeding up. It couldn’t read her or her signals, and the way her heart was racing she couldn’t make them any clearer. She was going to find a woman. And maybe, if she could pull herself together into something impressive and worthy she could make that woman her wife in time.

Rounding a corner, she caught a glimpse of the pale blue bathhouse and dismounted, dragging her satchel with her. The steps were empty and the front hall silent as she stepped in, but the water was in motion and the lamps lit, so she wandered further into the twisting corridors.

For all that she knew that the bathhouses were constructed, they always felt natural. Stone walls smoothed over time, rounded ceilings, circuitous paths that doubled back on themselves. Like the earth had surged up and then yawned open to share its deepest water with the Amazons.

Just ahead and to her left, Diana heard a splashing.

The women who tended the vineyards were often softer, more sturdy, than the women in Antiope’s army. They went through regular training, same as anyone, but it wasn’t their whole life. When they left each session they returned to their usual labors, ate richly from the source, built the kind of compact muscle indicative of real and productive work. When Diana peeked into the room to find that splashing sound, her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of such a body. Supple and rounded, with a fullness in her cheeks and water racing down her skin. She stood in the pool of deep and iridescent blue, visible above her waist, and poured water down her shoulders to wash soap away.

“Do you find something amusing?” she asked, and Diana jumped and snapped her eyes up away from the woman’s breasts. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“No, I just…” she cleared her throat, and then again. Nerves were one thing, but she was the daughter of Hippolyta. Surely she was braver than this, “You are very beautiful. It shocked me how beautiful, when I walked past.”

A shy smile peeked out from behind the woman’s cool demeanor and then she covered it up again. She tilted her head into something approaching dismissal and said, “I know I am beautiful. Why shouldn’t I be?”

”You should,” Diana let her eyes drift back down again, tracing the line of neck to shoulders to biceps, “The world is better for it.”

She smirked at that, the mask finally cracking, and ducked down into the water to brace against the edge.

“Well come on then,” she gestured at the space beside her, “if you plan to stay and compliment me, you should at least get clean while you’re doing it.”

Diana’s hands were moving before she had even registered the command, unfastening what seemed like a million different straps and belts. She dropped her cloak to the floor and drug her shirt up and over her shoulders. The only thing left was her leather skirt, and as she watched the woman’s eyes trace the lines of her stomach she felt emboldened to loosen one last buckle and let it drop to the floor.

She crossed the room, fighting off her shyness with every ounce of strength she had, and climbed into the pool. The heat and magic seaped into her skin, stealing away tension that she’d been holding all night, and she nodded at her companion.

“I am Diana.”

The woman nodded back, “Parthenie. You don’t look like you live anywhere near here. Did all the baths on the island run dry except this one?”

Diana shrugged and avoided her gaze. It only made her feel, and look, more suspicious.

“I just wanted to ride this morning, clear my head. And then I was sweating so badly I needed a bath.”

Oh gods. If she could snatch the words out of the air and stuff them back in her mouth she would. She fidgeted, and finally glanced back at Parthenie, expecting a look of disdain, but found a broad smile instead.

“I can imagine that would rankle someone like you. You look like you live near the palace, yes? Somewhere severe and formal. Bet you’d never engage in anything that got you too worked up, would you?”

Diana tried to answer, but all that came out was a timid squeek, a little shock running up from between her legs. Parthenie grinned even wider at that, and moved slowly towards her, the water coming out in ripples in front of her.

“We can get,” she gasped when Parthenie’s knees grazed against the outside of her thighs, “excited.”

“Oh, can you? You know, I really like the idea of taking someone so polished as you and mussing them up. Do you think you’d want that?”

“Hmm?”

Parthenie was on her lap now, thighs broad and firm, breasts moving freely with the push of the water, and Diana held her breath, mesmerized. Parthenie rested her elbows on Diana’s shoulders and ran fingers along the crown of her hair.

“Look at that, even your braid is fussy and complicated. Not a strand out of place. Would you like me to change that?”

“Yes,” she breathed, and with that affirmation Parthenie was pressing into her space, taking her lips and pushing her back against the lip of the pool.

Diana could never be worthy, she knew that flat out. She could only hope to keep up, if this was the standard. The woman in her lap moved against her like it was natural, kissing her like she was trying to consume her. She tangled one hand in Diana’s hair, and with the other she drifted down to grab her hand and bring it up to cup her breast.

Diana’s hips hitched up and her mind blanked out. She’d felt her own breasts, of course, but this was different. This woman was full of fire and her breasts were soft and giving, satisfying in her hand, and she felt lightheaded. She wanted to bury herself between them.

“That’s it. Now,” she kissed Diana on the cheek, and then the neck, moving down towards her clavicle, “should I show you what it’s like with a girl like me? Or should I just take my own pleasure from you?”

Diana whimpered, but steeled her resolve. She was in over her head already, but she knew one thing at least. The rule that had been drilled into her head, repeated over and over in Miss Clio’s treatises: your partner’s satisfaction should be your goal.

“I want to...” she started, and then hesitated. She realized she wasn’t sure what to ask for, what to call it exactly. She knew only the academic terms, “Take your pleasure from me. Please. But...I’ve never done this before.”

Parthenie raised an eyebrow down at Diana, “Someone who looks like you going around calling women beautiful in baths and yet you don’t have experience with sex? How is that possible?”

“I don’t,” she swallowed, and ran her tongue along her lips, “I don’t call most women beautiful. You’re the first.”

Parthenie nodded, just a little smug.

“If I do my job right today I’ll also be the last.”

She braced her hands against Diana’s shoulders and hefted herself up. The water parted around her waist and then she was over her, knees braced on the side of the pool, and her folds pressed against Diana’s face. Her weight forced Diana’s head backwards, tilting where it rested against the edge, and she looked up from her new position, pinned beneath this force of nature of a woman, and saw bright eyes looking back down at her. She ached between her legs and, following an impulse, ran her hands up Parthenie’s ass and settled against her hips, holding her loosely in place.

“Don’t worry, little flower, I’ll tell you what to do. Would you like that?”

She tried to nod, managing only a small shift of the head and her nose dragged along Parthenie’s clit as she moved. She jerked and then visibly pulled herself back under control.

“Good,” she breathed, “Now open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

It felt like being buried alive, being underneath Parthenie. She moved like she was riding a horse, always shifting, hips bouncing, and her hands perpetually buried in Diana’s hair. She would think that hours had passed with her tongue pressing against her swollen clitoris but it couldn’t have been, not if they were still alone. Sometimes, when she would twirl her tongue just right and dig her fingers into the flesh on Parthenie’s hips, she would clamp down with her thighs, closing off Diana’s world that extra degree and making it hard to breath. It should have made Diana panic, and it did a little bit, but more than that it felt exciting. To be held so completely by someone else, and trust them to pull back just when you need it. Her head swam with the feeling, and she floated in her body and kept moving, kept licking and sucking just as she was told to.

Parthenie got wetter and wetter, smearing the liquid against Diana’s face, and her whimpers and groans grew breathier, more desperate. She reached up to her own chest and pulled at her nipples, searching for just the right angle to tilt her hips against the pressure of Diana’s efforts. Then, all at once, she clenched and pushed down, slick liquid dripping from her opening, and Diana groaned against her folds. She finally allowed herself to release a hand from Parthenie’s hips and dipped below the water to find her own hole loose and open, arousal racing through her veins as her partner slumped forward to catch her breath.

“Hey now,” she said, finally, “don’t you get started without me.”

She climbed off Diana’s face, allowing her to stretch her neck where it had gone stiff, and slid down into the pool beside her. She leaned in to kiss some of the moisture off her face and hummed at the taste of herself.

“There we go. You take direction well, Diana. Let’s see if you can stay still for me.”

Starting at her collar, Parthenie ran a hand down her side, dipping over to wrap around a breast and then continue on, through the dips of the muscles on her stomach, and into the crease of her hip. Diana’s breathing sped up, and she felt almost frantic with wanting. The hand on her skin shifted, turned, and then there were fingers pressing against her entrance and slipping past the lips and up inside. She moaned, high and long, and slumped into Parthenie’s shoulder.

“That’s it, perfect.”

She ground the heel of her hand into Diana’s clitoris and rolled her hand to put pressure on the walls inside. Diana could feel the heat mounting, her thoughts becoming more and more incoherent in her head, and she clutched at Parthenie’s neck to ground herself as she tumbled over the edge.

They sat together, panting, for a long time.

When the voices of others began to echo off the cave-like walls of the bathhouse, and their time together seemed like it was coming to a close, Diana pulled back to look Parthenie in the eye.

“I don’t spend much time in the vineyards, you know.”

Parthenie’s shoulders slumped slightly, but she shrugged.

“I figured as much.”

“But...if you’d like...I’d enjoy more trips to this side of the island in the future. Or maybe you could come and visit the palace. I could make up a room for you.”

She grinned and Diana blushed, ducking her face.

“We could...we could explore the gardens. Eat together. If you want.”

“I think I would like that.”

She captured her lips and Diana melted into it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot easier than the last couple stories, gentler too. It's a bunch of marshmallow fluff masquerading as porn basically. Although I couldn't avoid the hints of dom/sub, those are just woven into my DNA.
> 
> Gal Gadot is a national treasure, and so are the Amazons.
> 
> Fun fact, Parthenie means "the maiden". Planning to do more stories about these two and progress their relationship.


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